Searching for Happily Ever After
by AnaEvelyn
Summary: Jordan and Woody quickly realize that being a couple doesn't make life perfect. Now they have to decide of what they have is close enough.
1. Finally?

**Hello! Yay, I started a new story! It's a sequel to "A Picture's Worth," but it's not necessary to read it before this one. Hope you enjoy it...please review!**

**Disclaimer: Why would anyone who actually owns Crossing Jordan be writing fanfiction stories? Okay, maybe because it's only in reruns now, but still...so no, I don't own CJ.:-)**

**Summary: Jordan and Woody quickly realize that being a couple doesn't make life perfect. Now they have to decide of what they have is close enough.**

Chapter One: Finally?

Jordan and Woody soon learned that "finally" was not the same as "happily ever after." As it is with most things, the first few weeks were amazing…the next few were great…and it kept sliding downwards from there.

Sighing, Jordan unlocked her big red door and pushed through it wearily. Bypassing the kitchen and dinner, she headed directly to the bathroom shedding clothes as she went. A long, hot bath might clear her mind.

As the water rushed into the tub and Jordan added her favorite bath oils, she wondered what had happened to her and Woody. Sure, they had fought before when they were 'just friends,' but never as constantly as now. It seemed like there was always something getting on one of their nerves…not big things, but the little ones were adding up.

She sank into the steamy water and worried—not for the first time—that they were crushing under the pressure of being a couple. Maybe what she had feared all along was coming true—the change in their relationship would cause them to lose one another. Friends could make up…couples imploded.

* * *

This time it was about a case—one that made Jordan's skin crawl without the disagreements she had with Woody. A twelve-year-old boy had been found, shot execution style. There was also considerable evidence of physical abuse. When they identified him as Jake Williams, they found out that he lived in a group home.

The interview with the social worker who ran the home had not been pretty. Jordan, as usual, refused to wait in the car and disregarded Woody's request that she remember that she was a coroner and not a cop. She nearly accused the director of abusing the boys himself.

"Now just a minute," he said. "No one in this house is abusing anyone."

Jordan had raised her eyebrows incredulously. "He was covered with bruises, some of them a week old."

The man shook his head. "I don't know how that happened…though I wouldn't know anyway. Jake hasn't been here for the last month."

Woody used Jordan's surprise to get back the upper hand. "Was he placed somewhere else?"

Another negative headshake. "He just never came home from school one day. We called the police—we did everything we were supposed to," he added hurriedly, noticing Jordan's eyes flare. "They concluded that he had run away. It's not uncommon, you know."

"No, we don't," Woody replied. "How many of your kids have run away?"

"This year? Nearly thirty," the man explained. "The police found five of them and brought them back. They go back to their parents, if they have any, or they just leave. They think they can make it on their own."

"Well, Jake didn't," Jordan commented. She looked around the room they were sitting in. "If you've lost twenty-five kids, then this house must be nearly empty. It's not that big," she remarked.

He shrugged. "We're overcrowded as it is. Just because some of the kids disappear doesn't mean there aren't any to take their places. There are more kids in bad homes than the city can take care of, Dr. Cavanaugh."

"And you don't find it odd that so many 'disappear?'" she asked hotly.

"Sure I do, but there's not much I can do about it," the director answered.

Jordan stood up. "Why don't you look after them? Maybe they wouldn't run away if you were better at your job!"

Woody ended the interview after that, and they both left angry. They argued all the way back to the morgue about everything from Jordan's attitude to the foster care system. Woody was with the law—and common courtesy, as he put it. Jordan was with the victim, and screw the rest.

When he dropped Jordan off, Woody told her he was just going to go home, even though they had planned to have dinner together at a nice restaurant. He left her standing in the parking lot, somewhere between rage, confusion, and hurt.

* * *

Jordan groaned in frustration and pulled herself completely under the water, hoping that it would erase all of her emotions. She realized that she had come on a little strong to the social worker, but she also thought that her anger was valid. Woody was being too passive, and it irritated her.

But it irritated her more that they couldn't keep their work lives out of their personal lives. Dinner would have been a disaster…Jordan knew that. But that didn't keep her from missing Woody's presence.


	2. Rocky Road

**Hey there! Thank you to my very kind reviewers. I'm glad you like the beginning. Since the holidays are coming up, this will probably be my last update for a couple of weeks--Please don't shoot me! I may get one in there, but I'll be away from home most of the time.**

**And so...enjoy:-)**

Chapter Two: Rocky Road

Woody strode purposefully through the morgue, only pausing to greet Dr. Macy as he made his way to the autopsy room. Then, Woody slowed down and entered the room quietly.

As he expected, Jordan was there. She was sitting at the desk pouring over massive stacks of files. She was listening to her iPod, so she didn't hear Woody come in. This gave him a few moments just to watch her.

As he did, Woody sighed to himself. Why did things have to be so difficult between them? He hadn't expected every day to be sunshine and daises, but he never foresaw the perpetual black cloud that hung over them. Like in everything else he did, Woody just wanted to fix the problem and move on…but the more he tried, the worse it got.

Woody moved around to her side and waved his arms. She jumped, but got over it quickly and stopped her music.

"Hey," he said, coming closer to her. "Look, about last night…I'm sorry. I—"

"It's okay," Jordan interrupted him. She waved it away with her hand, though Woody knew it wasn't that simple.

"Jordan," he started, but she cut him off again.

"No, really, Woody," Jordan shrugged. "I guess it's just a normal part of being us."

Woody shook his head and sat in the chair next to her. He cupped her cheek gently. "I don't want it to be."

Despite everything, Jordan still leaned into his hand. She closed her eyes, knowing that he was going to kiss her. She wasn't disappointed.

When they broke apart, Jordan looked at him and smiled hesitantly. Woody returned her smile and ran his hand through her hair one more time.

Then he spoke. "Maybe we should get to work."

"Yeah…maybe we should," Jordan replied.

He nodded his head towards the files. "What's that?"

"Cases," she said. "All the missing kids from group homes in the last year."

Woody raised his eyebrow. "Where did you get them?"

"I had them sent over from Missing Persons," Jordan replied. She put her hand on the smallest pile. "These kids were all found and returned to their group homes. These two piles are for the ones found dead—the smaller is of cases that were solved." She took a heavy breath and motioned to the largest of the piles. "And these kids are still missing."

Woody studied her face. "Jordan, what are you doing?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "These kids…Woody, the system is broken!"

He held up his hands in surrender. "No argument there, sweetheart. But…there's no way to fix it. Everyone is doing the best they can."

"Well, it's not enough," she said angrily. "Maybe if the people running each home cared more, or if these kids could get adopted into real homes…or maybe…maybe there's something more sinister going on," she finished.

Woody noticed that look in Jordan's eyes…the one she got when she was overly obsessed with a case. "No," he said firmly. "Jordan, no conspiracy theories."

"I'm just going through the files to see if there is some kind of pattern," she countered. "These kids deserve justice!"

"Which is why we're working on Jake William's case," Woody reminded her.

She shook her head. "It's not enough."

"Well, it's all that I can do," he replied. "Now, if you have actual evidence, I'd love to hear it."

Jordan glared at him. "Nigel's working on trace from the boy's shoes to see if we can pinpoint other places Jake has been."

"And?"

"He's not done yet."

Woody sighed, frustrated. "Okay, so you don't have anything for me." He headed towards the door. "Call me when you do."

* * *

The afternoon passed with pointless interview after pointless interview for Woody. He returned to his office with just as much information as he started with…he wasn't an inch closer to closing Jake's case than he was a day ago.

He yanked off his tie and sat down. He began to go through his notes again, hoping something would jump out at him that he'd overlooked before.

Halfway through his reading and his cup of very bad coffee, Woody was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, relieved that it wasn't Jordan…if it was, there would have been no knock.

"Sir." A tall, balding man in a gray suit coat stepped through the threshold. "Detective Gibson over at Missing Persons."

"Yes?" Woody asked, a bit wary.

The detective sighed. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I didn't want to take this higher unless it was absolutely necessary."

Now Woody was definitely concerned. "What do you need?"

It's…it's your girlfriend," Gibson replied. "She's been hounding me and my detectives all day." Woody grimaced. "We sent over the files, like she requested, but she's interrogating us now…she even implied that some of my men might be hiding evidence, and that's going too far."

The man was angry, and Woody couldn't blame him. "I'll take care of her," he said firmly.

Detective Gibson only looked minimally reassured, but thanked Woody anyway and left. Woody sat down and slammed the desk with his fist. It was one thing for Jordan to bug him with her obsessions, but quite another to put a whole department in an uproar. Would she ever learn? Would he?

Resolutely, Woody made a call up to the front desk. He hung up, knowing that he would get a tongue lashing from Jordan later, but also knowing that the detectives would be left alone to do their jobs.

* * *

Woody was right. Not an hour later, he received an irate phone call from Jordan. "Why did you tell the front desk not to let me in unless I hade a specific invitation from a detective?" she fumed.

Woody tried to stay calm. "Because you turned an entire division upside down today with your questioning."

"Oh, please! They are the ones responsible for finding these kids!"

"I know, Jordan. They're doing their best," Woody said. "You had no evidence and no right to blame them for not closing enough cases!"

Jordan gave a humorless laugh. "You got called on the carpet about it, didn't you? And so now you're punishing me."

"No, I'm not punishing you," Woody replied hotly. "I have too much work to do—solving actual cases, mind you—without other detectives coming in and asking me to keep my girlfriend at bay."

"They just don't want anyone finding out what they're up to!"

Woody pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Jordan, they just don't want to be harassed at every turn."

"I'm not harassing them!"

"Yes, you are!"

"But you couldn't have just asked me to stop, could you? You had to tell the front desk to bar me from the precinct!"

"That's because I don't trust you!"

Woody wanted to eat his words as soon as he said them, but it was too late. There was silence on the other end, and then a click. Jordan had hung up on him.


	3. Second Place

**New chapter finally! And there was much rejoicing (yay). Holidays are over and I'm back on a schedule--much better for writing:-). Thanks for all of your great reviews. Enjoy:)**

Chapter Three: Second Place

Jordan turned her cell phone off right after she hung up on Woody. She bypassed take-out and went straight home, where she also unplugged her land line. Right now, she was too angry to even hear Woody's attempts to apologize.

Fuming, Jordan paced through her apartment. She couldn't believe Woody had said that—that he believed that he couldn't trust her. After everything they had been through, hadn't he learned that she would do anything for him? Jordan knew that her obsession with cases could get her into trouble…but that never stopped her. And it had never stopped Woody from pursuing her romantically.

Jordan finally sat down. Maybe Woody had expected her to change…but that could never happen. How could she stop trying to find justice for the victims she encountered? Woody understood that drive; he couldn't expect her to give it up.

Maybe she had pushed a bit too hard on the Missing Persons detectives. Okay, so she _did_ push too hard. Woody still owed her the courtesy to talk to her about it before barring her from the precinct.

But that wasn't even the issue…not really. Jordan felt her eyes well up with tears. Woody didn't trust her. He didn't think she'd do anything he asked…didn't think she'd tell him the truth…didn't think she really loved him.

That was the bottom line…Woody doubted her love. The tears spilled over at that thought. Jordan grabbed the throw pillow next to her, buried her head in it, and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

The next day, Jordan went into the morgue determined to avoid Woody. Apparently, though, such resolve was unnecessary. Woody seemed to have gotten the message last night when she didn't return his calls—she didn't see him all morning.

Her end of the case wasn't progressing much, though. Nigel's trace analysis hadn't turned up much. Jake Williams had recently been in part of the city that was known for all sorts of crime, so narrowing down what happened to him before he was shot wasn't possible.

At noon, Jordan decided that she needed both a break from the morgue and some alone time, so she turned down her friends' offers to dine in the break room and headed for her favorite Chinese restaurant. It was a tiny hole-in-the-wall place that Jordan had frequented since she moved back to Boston. There, the workers knew both her name and her order.

She decided to get her food to go, and chatted with the cashier while she waited. Then, she heard a familiar voice in the background. Sighing, she turned around, thinking that Woody had finally caught up to her.

Woody was indeed there, but it didn't look like apologizing was on his mind. In fact, he hadn't even noticed her.

But she noticed him…and the attractive blond woman he was with. Woody was all smiles and laughs, and the girl's intentions couldn't have been more obvious. Jordan quickly turned around, not wanting them to see her.

She grabbed her food and was gone with barely a thank-you. Unable to leave without passing right by Woody, she made sure to give him a death glare as she exited. And she didn't wait around to see his reaction.

Jordan walked blindly for several blocks trying to process what she had seen. It was something she had been afraid of happening. She always knew about Woody's proclivity for dating blonds…every time they had been on the rocks with their friendship, he had hooked up with one. It was one of the things that had given fuel to her trust issues and had made her reluctant to get into a relationship with Woody.

But after the undercover art dealer case, Jordan thought that they were both over their collective misgivings. They had both declared their love for each other…Jordan had let herself believe that someone really could love her.

She laughed ruefully, and passers-by stared. She ignored them, too wrapped up in her own thoughts. It had all been a fantasy. She mentally kicked herself for letting Woody make her believe that her life could ever be happy.

It wasn't her love Woody had doubted…it was his own. Perhaps he had chosen this other woman before Jake turned up dead. Perhaps the case was just his way of breaking it off with her.

Jordan hated herself for thinking like that…Woody had left 10 messages on her cell phone last night. If he wanted to be free of her, then he wouldn't have bothered.

But what if he gave up? What if he decided last night that it was just too hard to be with her? Jordan knew that he didn't trust her…maybe all those unreturned phone calls were his breaking point.

Jordan stopped walking and sat down on a bench. She pulled out her cell phone and stared at it. She should talk to him…maybe she was reading way too much into his behavior.

But Jordan was too afraid. She was afraid that she might hear Woody reject her, and she knew she couldn't handle that. And if she didn't hear those dreadful words, she didn't want to hear the excuses either. Not right now.

Anyway, Woody would probably just ignore her, like she had been doing him.

So instead, Jordan slammed her phone shut and started back to the morgue. She would just go with anger for now.


	4. Learning

**Happy MLK Day! I guess you know what I spent my day off doing:-). Hope this answers some of your questions. Thank you to my wonderful reviewers--this one was written just for you. Enjoy:-)**

Chapter 4: Learning

Jordan wearily dragged herself up the stairs to her apartment after an afternoon trying to focus on work and being unsuccessful. All she could think about was Woody.

She turned the corner and found the object of her thoughts standing right in front of her big red door. Jordan stopped momentarily, then sighed and moved to stand next to him. She leaned against the door jamb, crossed her arms, and stared up at Woody. She didn't think she wanted to hear his explanation, and tried not to give that away on her face.

It was Woody's turn to sigh. "Jordan, I'm sorry," he said. When her expression didn't change, he kept going. "It's not what you think…I know it looks bad, but there's nothing between Jen and I."

Jordan's face stayed neutral. "Then why were you with her?"

"Remember that bet at the precinct about the NCAA tournament? The one where we all filled out brackets predicting which teams would win?"

"Yeah," Jordan answered. "You won." They had gone to a really expensive restaurant and spent his entire winnings that day.

Woody nodded. "There was another part to it. Whoever won the most was supposed to take the person who lost the worst out to lunch. Well, that was Jen. I know—"

"Woody, that was two months ago."

Another nod. "Yeah, but I knew that she had a thing for me, so I kept putting her off. She cornered me today, and I thought that since I wouldn't be eating with you that I might as well. I didn't think my day could get any worse."

Jordan studied his face for a minute. Woody wore his heart on his sleeve…and he could never get away with lying to her. And she remembered that other part of the bet—and how much Woody had dreaded it. She felt her cheeks color a bit, embarrassed that she had been so wrong.

"I guess your day did get worse," she said finally.

"Yeah."

They stood silently, facing each other awkwardly until Woody spoke again. "Can I…is it okay if I come in?" he asked. He held up a sack. "I brought Italian."

Jordan almost allowed him a smile—but they hadn't ironed everything out yet. "Yeah, okay," she said.

Once inside, Jordan went to her kitchen and started laying out plates and flatware on the counter. She wasn't ready yet for a cozy cuddle on the couch. They ate mostly in silence until Jordan finished and looked up at Woody.

"You don't trust me." Subtlety was not Jordan's strong suit...she had meant it as a statement, but it came out as a question.

Woody put down his fork. "It's not like that," he said. Jordan looked at him incredulously. "What I mean is…it's not a blanket distrust. I _do_ trust you. I trust that you love me, that you have a good heart, that you won't run away."

"But?"

"You get so obsessed with some cases," he answered. "I know how you get—and I know you won't change—but sometimes you just get so wrapped up in finding justice for people, that you lose all of the common sense you possess. And then you are unpredictable, and I'm not sure if I can trust that you will do something just because _I_ tell you too." Woody sighed. "I know I can't compete with a murder victim."

Jordan looked away. That last statement hit her hard. "That's not true," she whispered.

Woody just looked at her. She sighed. "Okay, maybe it is…or it _was_. But not anymore." She looked him in the eye. "I would do what you asked. I might have hated it, and argued it, and gotten totally ticked off, but I would have respected your wishes."

Woody still looked uncertain, and Jordan felt tears well up. "I'm sorry," she said, coming around the counter to him. "Woody, I promise I will listen to you…you mean more to me than any case. I swear."

Woody closed his eyes briefly, then wrapped Jordan in a hug. "I believe you," he said. He kissed her forehead and led her over to the couch.

They settled in close together. Woody stroked her hair as he said, "What can I do Jordan? To help you not get so lost in these cases?"

Jordan looked up at him. "I don't know," she answered. "It's like they consume me. I can't stop thinking about Jake…how he was all alone. And how someone should have been there to take care of him."

"We're going to find out who killed him, Jordan," Woody said. "We will. But you have to go easy on the conspiracy theories."

Jordan didn't answer for a moment. "If I do…will you at least consider them as possible?"

Woody smiled. "Yeah. I will. And we'll both go wherever the evidence leads. Deal?"

"Deal." Woody kissed her forehead.

"Woody?" Jordan asked after a few minutes of being silent.

"Hmmm?"

"Are we falling apart?"

Woody turned so that he could look her in the eyes. "No," he replied. "We're just…learning how to be together." He kissed her forehead again.

Jordan smiled at him, liking the thought. "You think you could learn how to kiss me properly, then?"

Woody cupped her cheek with his hand and leaned in until he was millimeters away from her lips. "Like this?" he whispered before kissing her again, properly.


	5. Digging Up the Past

**Bonjour! Sorry about the skip last week...back on track now. So, on with the show! Thanks for reviewing...enjoy:-)**

Chapter Five: Digging Up the Past

Knowing he was about to make waves, Woody took a deep breath to steady himself as he walked through the precinct. Making waves had never been his thing…though he ought to have been used to it after so many years around Jordan.

With one last breath Woody rapped sharply on Detective Gibson's door.

"Come in." Woody heard the pot-bellied man's voice through the door.

"Good morning, Detective," he said as he entered, attempting to start the conversation off positively.

Woody had no such luck, however. "What do you want?" Gibson asked gruffly. His eyes fell back to his files, telegraphing his lack of concern for Woody.

Woody held his ground. "Your file on Jake Williams."

The detective stood up. "I gave your girlfriend all of our files on missing teenagers already."

"And they were returned," Woody said, nodding. "But Jordan never requested the Williams file. I did. And you haven't given it to me yet."

"So what? He was a missing teenager—that is my division."

Woody glared at Gibson. "And now he has been found. Dead. A bullet to the back of the head makes it a homicide—my division."

"I caught the case first!" Gibson asserted, sounding more like a 5-year-old than one of Boston's Finest.

"Look, I know that you're annoyed because Jordan stirred things up here," Woody stated. "But I'm not about to start a turf war over this. I need that file so I can try to find out what happened to this boy."

Detective Gibson stared Woody down for a long moment; then he decided that this was not a fight he could win.

Woody left the precinct with Jake Williams's missing persons file and geared himself up for the next battle he would have before visiting Jordan for lunch.

* * *

Back at the morgue, Jordan was irritated. Nigel had concluded—correctly—that Jordan's fancy cinnamon roll from the diner across from her apartment meant that she and Woody had made up.

And Nigel wouldn't shut up about it. His thirst for gossip had no end. That, coupled with the fact that he still couldn't find any useful physical evidence off of Jake's body had put Jordan in a very sour mood.

She was sitting with her feet on her desk and the file in her lap, trying to find something they missed the first time around. A soft knock made her lift her head, and she smiled when Woody entered.

"I hope you brought food," she said. "And shut the door, quickly."

Woody gave her a puzzled look at her last statement. "Nigel," she answered.

Woody chuckled. "Giving you a hard time?"

Jordan nodded. "And he couldn't find anything to help us with this," she said, motioning to the file, frustration written on her face.

Woody bent down to kiss her before saying, "Well then, it's a good thing that you have a really smart detective for a boyfriend."

Jordan smiled at his playfulness, but then became more serious. "What've you got?"

He tossed her a sandwich and held up two files. "Jake's files from Missing Persons _and_ Social Services."

"How did you get the one from Social Services?" Jordan asked, eyebrows raised.

Woody gave her a big, Cheshire cat grin. "I can be very persuasive."

* * *

An hour later they had a good list of new people to interview from Jake's past. He had been in and out of foster and group homes so often that it made the list rather lengthy.

"Okay, so maybe I was a bit too hard on the guy from Jake's last group home," Jordan said at the end. Woody just looked at her, waiting. She shrugged. "It looks like the issue is really Social Services, not the individual homes."

Woody nodded. "Maybe it's a combination of both. But really, how can you feel connected anywhere when you only stay at each place for a month?"

"I'd probably run away, too," Jordan conceded.

"I hope you're speaking hypothetically," a voice in the doorway said. Woody and Jordan looked up to see Lily, smiling.

Jordan smiled. "Yeah, Lily…since I'm not a teenage anymore, it has to be hypothetical."

Lily's smile disappeared. "The Williams boy?" The two nodded.

"Hey, Lily, what do you know about Social Services?" Woody asked, remembering that Lily dealt with them on occasion.

She snorted. "More than I care to. The employees are way too overworked, and they see way too much of the worst in humanity. Not to mention the kids who have to actually live in that world."

"Do you think it really helps the kids any?" Jordan asked.

Lily shrugged. "In a way, yes. It gets them out of abusive homes. But they need so much more help than the system can give them. So it's a catch 22—they can't stay where they are, but there isn't much hope where they go, either."

"And now there's none for Jake," Jordan said, frustration returning.

Lily turned to Woody. "Talk to his case worker first—he or she probably knew Jake better than anyone."

They both nodded and thanked Lily. Jordan got up, threw their sandwich wrappers in the trash, and grabbed her purse.

"You coming?" she asked Woody.

Woody gave her a look. "Which one of us is the cop, again? Of course I'm coming."

He stood and crossed over to where Jordan was standing. Taking her hand, he kissed her on the temple and led her out of her office.

Jordan squeezed Woody's hand as they walked down the hallway, relieved and assured that they were back in step.


	6. Detective Cavanaugh

**Yay--another chapter! Thanks for your comments; they really help me a lot. Enjoy:-)**

Chapter Six: Detective Cavanaugh

The office was not spacious, but it was functional. Jordan assumed that it was all a CPS worker could hope for. The woman herself looked barely functional—stress was written all over her face.

"I'm sorry," she said as she riffled through a large stack of files. "If you'd had the morning I did…or the week…you'd be stressed too."

"No problem," Woody said. He knew that even his job couldn't touch hers; social workers see the worst of society on a regular basis.

"Just tell us whatever you remember about Jake Williams," Jordan prodded.

The woman gave them a small, sad smile. "Jake was a nice kid."

"How so?" Jordan asked.

She shrugged. "Despite all that he'd been through—father unknown, mother hooked on meth and alcohol, living on the streets—Jake wasn't bitter. Most of the kids I meet have a lot of anger inside. Not Jake. He was polite, quiet…he was very smart. Always got good grades. He told me once that it was the only way he'd ever get out of this mess he was in."

Woody wrote the comment in his notebook while Jordan continued her questions. "If he was such a great kid, why'd he bounce around homes so much?"

This time, the social worker's words were laced with anger. "Because CPS can't find enough intelligent people to be foster parents."

Both Jordan and Woody raised their eyebrows.

"There are a few," the woman twirled her hand above her head vaguely. "But not enough. Most of the people who apply aren't too far from getting their own children removed. But there are so many kids to take care of, that we end up accepting most of them."

Jordan looked pointedly at Woody, who sighed. "So Jake was moved because of the families, not because of his behavior."

The social worker nodded. "He actually requested transfer from the group home is was in before the last one."

Woody consulted his notes. Jordan asked why.

"He wouldn't tell anyone," she revealed. "Usually, we don't move kids unless there's a pile of evidence suggesting wrong-doing, but Jake was so adamant…and he's always been truthful. I figured if there was something he couldn't live with, it would be better to move him." She sighed. "I guess I was wrong."

Woody started to speak, but Jordan cut him off. "You don't think he ran away?"

The lady paused a moment before answering. "I…I don't know," she said finally. "It's so unlike him, but if something really bad was happening…." She shrugged again.

"Well, thank you for your time," Woody said.

The social worker nodded. "I hope I was helpful."

* * *

The rest of the day was spent interviewing Jake's school counselor and former foster parents. By and large, the interviews were identical to the one Jordan and Woody had that morning with the CPS worker.

"I don't get it," Jordan announced once they were back in her office. Chinese take-out boxes lined her desk and coffee table. "Everyone said that Jake was a well-balanced kid. Why would he run away?"

Woody looked up from his notes. "Maybe he didn't like the new group home, but figured that CPS wouldn't move him arbitrarily a second time."

"But that doesn't jive with his personality," she argued. "The social worker said that Jake saw education as his ticket out—he would have known that he'd never graduate if he ran away. Kids on the street don't go to school."

"Then let's keep looking until we find an answer that does make sense," Woody replied.

"It would make sense if he was kidnapped," Jordan countered.

"But why? He didn't turn up dead for a month—there would have been no reason for ransom, so what's the motive?" Woody paused. "If we could account for his whereabouts for that month between his disappearance and his death, we'd figure out why he left."

Jordan nodded but didn't respond. After a few more minutes looking at data, Woody spoke again. "When we do interviews tomorrow, would it be okay if you let me be the cop?"

Jordan's face colored. "I'm sorry," she said as she looked up. But Woody's face was smiling—the kind of grin Woody wore when he was playing with her.

"It's okay," he said. He moved closer to her on the couch. "I'm used to it…and it doesn't bother me when it comes from you." He leaned towards her face and cupped her cheek. "But," he whispered conspiratorially. "Don't let that get out among your colleagues."

Jordan smiled. "Not a chance," she said before closing the gap and kissing him firmly.

* * *

It was dark now. They had yet to leave the morgue, and Woody had fallen asleep on the couch while Jordan still scanned through files.

On a hunch, Jordan turned to her laptop and pulled up all of the Missing Persons files she had downloaded earlier. She ran a sort and jotted the results down on paper.

She tapped her foot worriedly while gazing at Woody. Sighing, she reached her decision. She scratched out a note and set it on the coffee table.

_Dear Woody,_

_Found something that couldn't wait, but didn't want to wake you. Going to Jake's previous group home. I'll call you when I'm done._

_I love you,_

_Jordan_

Then she grabbed her purse and left.


	7. The Wrong Side

**Hello! I'm back on track, finally. Hope you like this chapter. Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy:-)**

Chapter Seven: The Wrong Side

Jordan's first impression of Sunnyside Group Home for Boys was that it did not live up to its name. She guessed that could be expected as it was located in the middle of a bad neighborhood, but they could at least try to make it presentable. The house was large, but messy. Paint peeled off the wood boards, shutters were crooked or missing, and the grass was more like untamable weeds.

The rusty gate creaked when Jordan opened it, and the broken pieces of concrete crunched under her feet as she walked up the path. She also noticed that all of the window blinds were drawn—why would anyone keep a house in darkness like that?

Jordan heard shouting as she knocked on the door. The angry kind—two people were going at each other. The noise got louder until the door opened. A man appeared and screamed, "Shut up!" to a kid following him. The Jordan got a dark glimpse of the inside before the man slammed the door behind him.

"What do you want?" the man asked her. His hair was sandy-colored, and he was tall and well-built. With his temper, Jordan couldn't imagine many boys being brave enough to pick fights with him.

"Are you Seth Morrison?" she asked. "Do you run this home?"

"Yeah. So? Who are you?"

Jordan glared up at him. What was his problem? "I'm Dr. Cavanaugh from the Medical Examiner's Office." She flashed her badge.

Seth leaned against the door frame. "Whose drugged up mom did you find?"

She blinked, but then realized what he meant. "No one's…that's not why I'm here," she answered. "We found Jake Williams."

"Who?"

Anger flared in Jordan's eyes. This guy should never have been put in charge of a group home. "A boy who used to live in your house." She reached into her purse and pulled out his photo.

Seth glanced at it. "Oh, him. Scrawny little kid. He left here a while ago. Why do you need me?"

"He was murdered. Do you know why he requested to be removed from here?"

He shrugged. "Don't know; don't care."

Jordan looked at him, incredulous. "Isn't that your job?"

"Look, lady," Seth fired up again. "They pay me to feed and house these boys. Not dry their tears or coddle them."

"You sure they don't pay you to scream at them too?" Jordan couldn't help it. This guy was a jerk.

"You need anything else?"

She nodded. "Did Jake have any friends I could talk to?"

"Nope," Seth said. "There was one kid…I think his name was Brian…Jake hung with him. But he's not here anymore."

"Where can I find him?"

Seth shrugged again. "He ran away or something. Police looked into it. Never found him."

"Do you realize that your group home has the highest percentage of missing children in the city?" she asked, incensed. "The margin is significantly higher than all the others. Why is that?"

"Maybe the kids here just don't like me," Seth said. "I have things to do, so leave."

"One more thing," Jordan called to his retreating back. He turned. "Do you know Monica Hernandez?"

"No, should I?"

"She runs the group home for girls just down the street."

"So?"

"Her house has an unusually high number of missing children as well."

Jordan's only answer was the door slamming in her face. Sighing, she turned around and headed back to her car. While she was walking her phone rang—Woody.

"Hi," she said into her phone.

"_You should have woken me up."_

She sighed. "I'm sorry…I knew you haven't had much sleep. I just wanted you to rest."

"_But this is important. I need to be there on interviews."_

"I know. I'm sorry," Jordan said again.

"_It's all right. Did you find anything?"_

"Yeah. A real jerk…why don't we meet for lunch and I can tell you about him?"

"_Sure. How about the deli across from Chester Park?"_

"Sounds great. Hey, Woody?"

"_Yeah?"_

"Could you run a few names through the system for me? It might help."

"_Who?"_

"Seth Morrison and Monica Hernandez."

"_All righty. I'll see you in an hour."_

"Okay. I love you."

"_Love you too."_

* * *

Jordan may well have hit on something. Woody just wasn't sure what. He contemplated the report from the two group home leaders as he walked out to his car.

They were definitely connected, as Woody had thought. Two group home leaders just down the street from each other couldn't be strangers. But the connection went deeper.

Seth and Monica were products of the foster care system themselves. Not only that, but they were in the same foster home…the same foster home which was caught up in running drugs. The parents had been using the children to sell drugs under the radar. They had finally been caught, and were now serving very long prison sentences.

As he drove to the deli, Woody made a mental note to check into that story more. He thought it was interesting, but not necessarily causal. He hoped that Jordan had more than a hunch…she was nearly always right, but for this to make sense, he needed more.

Hopefully Jordan could provide that for him.


	8. Lost

**Thank you all for sticking with this story, despite the delays. I hope you like this chapter. Thank you for reviewing! Enjoy:-)**

Chapter 8: Lost

Jordan stepped out of her El Camino and contemplated the dilapidated girls' home in front of her. Monica Hernandez seemed to care about the house's external appearance just as much as Seth Morrison did his. She even thought she could hear shouting coming from inside.

Looking at the house made Jordan's stomach sick. She knew that she could easily have ended up in a home just like it—Max may not have been the world's greatest father, but at least he hadn't abandoned her. Jordan was disgusted. Now she understood why the first group home director they had interviewed had been so insulted by her comments. Compared to these homes, that guy ran a mansion.

She stared at the home for a few more minutes, even going up to the rickety fence for a better look. Then Jordan sighed. She needed to bring Woody back here. Not only did he need to see this with his own eyes, but he could get inside the house. Not for the first time, Jordan wished that she had a badge.

Jordan turned around to go back to her car. Then, everything went black.

* * *

Woody tapped his foot furiously against the tile floor. He was on his third iced tea, and Jordan still hadn't shown up. He was annoyed, and a bit angry. Jordan had said she'd be there…that they'd discuss what she found out…she promised to start heeding his requests…so where was she?

As he got up to get his fourth glass, Woody tried not to let his thoughts turn negative. She probably got stuck in traffic…but then she would have called. That's what did it. Whatever the reason, Jordan could at least call him…not make him wait over an hour at the tiny deli getting a full bladder.

He had hoped that after their last make-up they would stay on the same page for a while. Woody didn't want to think that Jordan was doing more interviews without him, but he couldn't keep his mind from going there. Perhaps he really _didn't_ stand a chance against her latest obsession.

Finally, Woody pulled out his cell phone. Her number went straight to voicemail. He left a message and continued to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

After three hours of unanswered calls, Woody's annoyance turned to worry. He paid his bill and drove to the boy's group home. No sign of Jordan. He even went up to the door, but all he got was a cheeky response about the 'hot annoying chick' that had been there earlier.

After checking the girls' home and turning up nothing, Woody's worry became alarm. He dialed the morgue to see if she went there.

"_Hello?" _A thick British accent greeted Woody's ears.

"Hey, Nigel. Have you seen Jordan?"

The Brit paused. _"Ummm…no. Not since yesterday. Why?"_

"She was supposed to meet me for lunch, but she didn't show up. She didn't call, either," Woody explained.

"_Well, this is Jordan we're talking about. Maybe she's chasing down a lead."_

"I don't think so. She would have called," Woody insisted.

He heard Nigel sigh on the other side. _"So where could she be?"_

"I don't know. Nige, could you trace her cell?"

"_Sure. Just one sec."_ Woody could hear the clack of keyboard keys. _"Her sim card shows that she's at the corner of Vine and Collins."_

Woody made a mental note of the location—it wasn't far from where he was. "Great. Thanks, Nige."

"_No problem. Let me know if you find her."_

"Will do."

Woody made a U-turn and headed toward the intersection. He drove slowly, eyes wide for a sign of Jordan. His heart sank when he spotted her car. It was in a ditch—almost completely on its side. Woody parked quickly and raced to the car, afraid that Jordan was hurt.

What he found only heightened his fear. Jordan wasn't there at all. Her purse, with a broken strap, was the only thing he could find of hers. He opened it and found her cell phone. Jordan wasn't stupid. If she'd wrecked her car, she would have called him or the morgue.

Woody looked around wildly, hoping to see her on the sidewalk, smirking at him. But Jordan wasn't anywhere.

* * *

Slowly, the blackness faded. Jordan moaned softly and opened her eyes. Even the dim light was too much and she shut them quickly. She used her other senses to assess her situation. Only her head hurt…she touched the side of it and winced. Hopefully it wasn't a concussion.

Again, but gradually this time, Jordan opened her eyes. She was on a mattress and had a blanket covering her. Gingerly she sat up to get a better look around.

All she could see in the room were twenty cots with sleeping teenage girls in each of them. Where was she?


	9. In Too Deep

**Thank you so much for the reviews! Hope you enjoy this chapter. :-)**

Chapter Nine: In Too Deep

Jordan felt like her head was going to explode. She lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes. She had no idea where she was or how she got there. And why were all those girls here, too? Jordan had a feeling she'd find out soon enough.

And Woody…if whoever had taken her didn't kill her, Woody would. She'd missed their lunch, which would make him upset. He'd think that she went off on her own again. And even after he figured out that she was in trouble…he'd still think it was because she hadn't listened to him.

Tears stung Jordan's eyes. She'd disappointed him again. She'd chosen the case over him, just like Woody said. There's no way he would want to stay with her now.

"Who are you?"

Jordan jerked her head up at the voice, but quickly realized that was a bad idea. She groaned and touched her head. "Where am I?"

"Asked you first."

Slowly, Jordan turned her body towards the voice and opened her eyes. One of the girls was awake. She was standing over Jordan's bed and staring at her.

Jordan winced again. "Umm…I'm Jordan Cavanaugh," she said softly. "I'm a Medical Examiner."

The girl snorted. "What would they want with you?"

She stared to walk away, but Jordan reached out and grabbed her arm. "Now answer my question."

The girl shrugged. "Don't know. Just a room inside a building."

Now Jordan sat up. "What about you? And the other girls? What are you doing here?" Jordan looked around again. Some of them were waking up and were staring at her.

"We're just caught in the system," the first girl replied. Jordan looked at her questioningly. "You know, 'Child Protective Services.' A load of crap. They sent us all here to be slaves."

"Slaves to whom?"

"To whoever needs their drugs distributed this week."

The casualness in the girl's voice took Jordan aback. It was like the girl was used to being used…like it was okay. Jordan watched as the girl began walking away. "Still, don't know why they'd want an adult," the girl said.

Jordan shook her head. "Because I was trying to figure out what was happening. CPS didn't send you here…you were taken from your group homes…kidnapped."

The girl turned back to look at Jordan. "Yeah, right," she said.

* * *

Woody was out of his mind with worry. CSU found nothing where Jordan's vehicle was left. Police had searched both group homes and come up empty. Woody knew there had to be a connection…he didn't believe in coincidences.

He had Monica Hernandez in an interview room for questioning. Seth Morrison was nowhere to be found, which made Woody even more worried. What if he was with Jordan?

He tamped down his fears and entered the tiny room. Monica was sitting calmly, gazing up at the ceiling.

Woody began without preamble. "Do you know this woman?" He asked, showing her Jordan's picture.

Monica glanced at it. "No."

"Look again." Woody shoved the photo closer.

Monica did. "Like I said, I don't know her."

"She didn't ask you questions at your home earlier?"

"No," she replied. "Now can I go?"

Woody put the picture away. "Know Seth Morrison?"

"Yeah," Monica answered. "He works at the home down the street. We know each other."

"That's funny," Woody commented. "He said that he doesn't know you. What's even more interesting is that the two of you grew up together."

"So?" Monica replied. "And how do you know what Seth said? He was gone by the time your boys searched his house."

Woody gave her a calculating smile. "He was interviewed this morning. So…if you know him, why doesn't he know you?"

She shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't like me."

Then the door opened. A tall man in a suit stepped in. "I'm Tim Daniels, Ms. Hernadez's attorney. She won't be answering any more of your questions, so either book her or let her go."

* * *

Jordan spent a long time trying to convince the girls that they weren't part of a government-sanctioned drug ring, but to no avail. Whoever was holding them had done a good job with the brainwashing. A little too good.

When the door opened, all heads turned to look at the man outlined in the entryway. He didn't say a word, but walked straight up to Jordan.

"You're coming with me, honey," he said. The man grabbed Jordan's arm and hauled her out of the room before she could protest.

"Get your hands off me," she yelled once they were in the hallway. He did not comply with her wishes. "What's going on here?"

The man smiled. "It's the government's form of capitalism."

She yanked herself out of his grasp. "I'm not thirteen; you can't pull that crap on me."

The man shrugged. "We'll see." He grabbed her again and forced her into another room.

Seth Morrison stood inside. "Dr. Cavanaugh, so nice to see you," he said menacingly. "Please, sit down."

The other man threw her into the chair. "What do you want?" Jordan asked.

"From you? Nothing. We just needed to get rid of you."

"Why?"

Seth rolled his eyes. "You know, if you hadn't mentioned Monica, this would never have had to happen. I could see that you knew too much…you have to be eliminated."

Jordan tensed inwardly, but tried to put on a strong front. "So what? You think no one will notice that I'm gone? Or that they won't figure it out once you kill me?"

Seth took a seat next to her. "Oh, they'll notice all right," he said. "You're a Medical Examiner, so people will actually care that you're missing." His eyes bored into hers. "That's why you'll stay here until the heat dies down. Then I'll kill you and dump you deep in the Atlantic. By the time they find you, no one will suspect us."


	10. Praying and Persuading

**Whew! Here we go again...please tell me what you think, you're reviews help me get better. Oh, and Bug's bug in this chapter...the scientific and common names are correct, but I made up all of the other stuff about it. I didn't have an entomologist on hand;-). Anyway...Enjoy:-)**

Chapter Ten: Praying and Persuading

Woody closed his eyes briefly and prayed. Prayed for a confession…a lead…a miracle. So far, none came. Angry with worry, Woody slammed his fist into the wall.

"Woody, stop," Garret admonished him. Standing from the computer desk, the older man put his hand on Woody's shoulder. "Beating up the wall isn't going to solve anything."

"I know!" Woody snapped. "But it's the only thing I can do!"

Garret shook his head. "What's going on with the women you questioned?" He resumed his seat and began scanning in more evidence.

"Santana is tailing her," Woody replied. "I doubt that Monica is stupid enough to go wherever they're holding Jordan, but maybe if she thinks no one is watching…." Woody trailed off with a shrug.

Garret nodded. "What else?"

Woody sighed. "Just an old lady who lives across the street from the girl's home. Says that she saw someone matching Jordan's description outside of the house earlier today."

"So Jordan was there."

"Yeah," Woody agreed. "But no one saw her go into the house. None of the girls who live there saw her, or heard the doorbell ring. I don't think Jordan went inside." At least, she had told him that she wouldn't do any more interviews without him…but then why was she missing?

"Okay. So the truck didn't leave the home by itself. Either Jordan or her assailant moved it," Garret assumed. "Bug and Nigel are running trace now…they could pick up something."

As he spoke, the computer beeped. "What'd it find?" Woody asked anxiously.

Garret shook his head. "Nothing. All the fingerprints belong to Jordan."

Before Woody could pummel the wall again, Bug and Nigel burst into the room.

"_Parcoblatta pennsylvanica_," Bug announced. He and Nigel looked at the other two men with expectant eyes.

"What?" they both replied.

Bug rolled his eyes. "The Pennsylvania Wood Cockroach. I found a crushed leg from one in Jordan's truck."

"So?" Woody said. "How does this help?"

"Because," Bug explained. "This cockroach only frequents abandoned places like old houses and warehouses. Jordan hasn't been near a place like that recently, so it must have come from whoever kidnapped her."

"Does the cockroach leg tell us what abandoned building she's in?" Woody pressed.

"No, love, but the dirt on the driver's side carpet does," Nigel said. Woody raised his eyebrows for Nigel to continue. "You see, there was mostly mud, but some bits of concrete mixed in. I broke down its components and cross-referenced that with concrete manufacturers in the area."

"And?" Garret asked.

"And," Nigel said, pausing for effect. "The company has been out of business for decades. Most of the buildings using this type of concrete are still fully functional or have been torn down. There are only fifteen left, seven of which are within a twenty-block radius from where the El Camino was found."

Woody pulled out his phone and began walking towards the exit. "Great, guys. Nigel, get me a list of those buildings ASAP!" At least one of his prayers had been answered.

* * *

Jordan was having problems of her own. Morrison had dumped her back in the room with the other girls, but they were still unwilling to trust that she wanted to help them.

"Look, Summer," Jordan addressed the girl who had spoken to her before—the seeming leader of the group. "I work for the government. I'm a Medical Examiner. If this drug ring is run by the government, why would these guys need to take me, too? They are threatened by me because I know what's really going on—and it's not legal or sanctioned in any way."

The other girls sitting around Jordan looked at Summer. The girl scrutinized her carefully, and Jordan didn't blink.

"Maybe you _are_ trying to tear this thing apart—doesn't mean that it isn't the government's business, or that you're going to win," Summer said finally. "They've got you now. They'll either make you part of this, or they'll kill you."

"How do you know that?" Jordan asked.

Summer looked away. "If you don't do what they say, they beat you. If you try to run, they kill you. If you try to stop them, they kill you. That's how it is."

Jordan was quiet for a moment. "You've seen it happen."

Summer nodded. "Yeah. Just last week, too."

Jordan shook her head questioningly.

"Some boy…they have boys across the hall, you know," she explained. "This kid showed up…they didn't know why he was there, so it wasn't part of the plan. He started talking all this stuff, just like you. Said he was going to tell the cops." She shrugged uncomfortably. "One of the men shot him in the back of the head."

Jordan sucked in a breath. "Do you know what his name was?"

"One of the other boys said it was Jake."

Jordan closed her eyes slowly. "He's why I'm here," she said. She looked up, determined. "I did his autopsy. I work with the detective on the case. Jake led me here, and I'm going to get you out of this place. All of you."


	11. Power Play

**Yay, another chapter! Almost to the climax...thank your for the great reviews! Enjoy:-)**

Chapter Eleven: Power Play

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and the girls hushed. Summer looked at Jordan, who nodded. Than, as one, the girls moved to the back corner of the room. Jordan stepped up to the door, praying that this would work.

Convincing Summer that she was really there to help changed all of the others' minds as well. They had spent the rest of their time, up until now, planning on how to get out of there. It was a shaky plan, but it was the best they could think of. Jordan only hoped that the girls wouldn't back out.

Jordan heard a key slip into the lock and the tumbler turn. She took a breath and grabbed the doorknob. She stepped backwards, taking the door with her, until her back was pressed against the wall.

"All right, time to get to work," a male voice said. He looked around the room and settled on the corner where the girls were. "Let's go!"

"Come over here and make us," Summer shouted back.

The man sniggered. "You're not really that stupid," he commented while taking out his gun.

Jordan watched his shadow move as he took one step inside. With all the strength she could gather, she slammed the door into his body.

There was a loud crash as the door hit his head and the man fell over backwards. Jordan rushed out from behind the door. "Hurry, help me!" She called to the girls.

Two of them came over and aided Jordan in to bringing the man inside and heaving him onto a bed. "Shoelaces," she demanded.

The girls grabbed the man's arms and legs and began tying him to the bed with their laces. Jordan went back to the door and shut it, picking up his gun as she walked back.

In no time, the man was immobilized and gagged. It didn't matter now, since he was out cold…but Jordan didn't know how long he would stay that way, or how long they'd have to wait until someone noticed his absence.

Carefully fishing through his pockets, Jordan smiled triumphantly when she found his cell phone. "Okay," she said to the girls. "Good job. I'm going to call someone to get us out of here."

"And they'll get here before one of the other guys comes looking?" Summer asked dubiously.

Jordan looked back at her. "We can always take them out with the door again." The girls looked skeptical and a bit frightened. "I won't let anyone hurt you," Jordan promised.

Saying another prayer Jordan dialed Woody's office phone, hoping that he'd be there and that he could trace her call.

* * *

Woody grabbed the phone off its first ring. "This is Hoyt," he said anxiously.

"_Woody."_

"Jordan?" Woody's heart jumped up into his throat. "Where are you?"

"_I have no idea. We got one of the men's phones and gun away from them. Can you trace the call?"_

Woody glanced up and saw Matt Seely standing in his doorway. He mouthed the word "trace" to him and he nodded. Quickly, Seely picked up the other phone and started tracking Jordan's call.

"Who's 'we?'" Woody asked, trying to keep up with the events.

"_Woody, it's like a slave army of teenagers. They put me with a group of girls, but there are boys too."_

"Seth Morrison?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"_He's been here. Said he was going to wait to kill me until the heat was off him."_

Alarms went off in Woody's head. "That's not going to happen! The trace is almost done…what else?"

There was a pause on the other end. _"Nothing…but I think someone is coming. Just hurry, Woody!"_

"Got it!" Seely cried from the other phone.

"We've got your location Jordan. We'll be there soon…don't do anything else that could get yourself hurt!" Woody didn't know whether he was pleading with Jordan or reassuring her.

She gave a ruthful laugh. _"You know me."_ Another pause. _"Woody…I love you."_

Woody closed his eyes. "I love you too."

Then the line went dead.


End file.
